


Feathered Fancies

by ThatScottishShipper



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angel Wings, Anxiety, Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Don’t repost to another site, Empathy, Fic Exchange, Love, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Wing Grooming, Wingfic, feathers - Freeform, little bit where Crowley mistakes wing feathers for a dove exploding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:26:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25136128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatScottishShipper/pseuds/ThatScottishShipper
Summary: When Aziraphale begins to lose feathers from his wings due to stress, Crowley is on hand to help an Angel out with some TLC.*Written for the Wingfic Exchange.*
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 52
Collections: Wingfic Exchange June 2020





	Feathered Fancies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [planetundersiege](https://archiveofourown.org/users/planetundersiege/gifts).



When Crowley awoke, he thought a dove exploded on his bed.

Rubbing his bleary eyes did little to reduce the number of plump feathers smothering him. He sneezed, the gust from his own black wings causing a whirl of tiny feathers to blow everywhere.

“Right.”

Missing the warmth of his companion, he followed the trail from the bedroom, down the tight winding stairway (seriously not wing proof,) until he came into the quaint bookstore linked to their upstairs home. Thankfully, it was too early for opening hours, but he knew who was lurking somewhere in the sanctuary of dusty tomes and literary antiques.

“Angel? Little early to be hitting the books, don't you think?”

A sudden flux of feathers hiccuped from the most private corner, and Crowley smiled sadly.  _ ‘Should’ve known. It’s his slice of heaven away from heaven, after all.’  _

Encircled by loose feathers, like a fresh patch of snow, sat Aziraphale on the couch, unable to hide his worrying. The… damage was very noticeable. Ruffled and frayed feathers stood out easily upon his normally pristine wings, and no amount of force restored them back to normal.

When the flustered Angel glanced Crowley’s way, trying to hastily smooth the sticking out fluff, a tight smile rested between red cheeks.

“Oh, Crowley dear, I wasn’t expecting-”

Crowley’s heart sank, knowing full well that Aziraphale’s empathy and love was a blessing and a curse. Things had been difficult lately for everyone, and his other half felt those intrusive emotions and feelings very deeply.

It always started with one pure white feather falling out, then another as the anxious Angel succumbed to his bad habit of stress preening.

A truly vicious cycle for anyone trapped in a ritual.

“C’mere, Angel,” Crowley said softly, sitting on the other half of the couch. “Let’s get you all dolled up, eh? Nice day in, what do you say?”

A flicker of vulnerability passed across Aziraphale, entire galaxies glistening in those sapphire nebulas that Crowley adored so. Something reminded the Fallen Angel of those heavenly creations in the universe, and in Aziraphale, he saw his potential to make beautiful things of nature.

Because Aziraphale himself saw the good in him, those sensitive wings lifting him up when he needed it most.

The Angel’s smile widened, and he shifted closer, letting one wing rest upon Crowley’s lap. Slowly, warm fingers stroked through the delicate wings, working the tangled kinks from Aziraphale’s stress-preened wings.

An angelic sigh fluttered from his lips, Aziraphale’s other wing flexing like feathery fingers. Crowley loved the intimacy of it all, the nimble fingers of a Demon caressing and worshipping those gentle wings.

Knowing Aziraphale trusted him to perform this important task grounded him, and making him realise this little corner of Earth, in a stuffy little bookstore drowning in goodness knows how many plants, was absolutely perfect.

An awkward laugh bubbles from Aziraphale, fidgeting throughout the circumstance. “So much for ‘winging it,’ as you say… I fear I am a dreadful mess.”

“Nonsense.” Crowley snorted, tossing a random hardback into Aziraphale’s restless hands. “Read for me, won’t you, love?”

In an instant, the sentiment in those endearing words filled Aziraphale’s heart to the bursting brim, plunging their little world into a rose pink splendour.

Even Crowley felt it, those feathers shining beneath him, responding to his every touch, his every affectionate word.

As Aziraphale started to read aloud from a historical text, pages upon pages glimpsed into their own pasts, endless encounters on the rich, expansive tapestry of life.

As narrated time periods came and went, Aziraphale huddled close to Crowley, a protective black wing veiled against the other white wing. Feathers of moonlight and ebony black waved together, a perfect union where one simply could not exist without the other.

**Author's Note:**

> Written as part of the Wingfic Exchange for planetundersiege. Prompts are Aziraphale x Crowley from Good Omens, with wing grooming, and stress preening (damaging wings.)
> 
> With this story, I hoped to capture the quiet intimacy of one helping to groom another’s wings, an action that involves a great deal of trust and care. I imagined Aziraphale losing feathers from stress and over preening himself, and that Crowley being there for him to offer love and comfort.
> 
> Thank you very much for reading, and I hope you enjoy. 🖤🤍


End file.
